Unlikely Allies
by MJ Duncan
Summary: It was supposed to be a routine snag, bag, and tag mission for the agents of Warehouse 13, but the appearance of one of H.G.'s old friends turned it into something else altogether. HG/Myka, Bo/Lauren ... - - Abandoned for now - -
1. Chapter 1

**W13/LG Crossover:** Unlikely Allies  
**Author:** MJ Duncan  
**Fandom: **Warehouse 13/Lost Girl  
**Pairings: **HG/Myka, Bo/Lauren  
**Rated: **PG13 for now…  
**Summary: **It was supposed to be a routine snag, bag, and tag mission for the agents of Warehouse 13, but the appearance of one of H.G.'s old friends turned it into something else altogether.  
**Disclaimer: **All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in these works, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As these works are an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, they constitute fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Note: **My Muse's ADD is acting up again and this little plot bunny just wouldn't leave me alone. At this point, this is all I have written for the story, but I figured I'd throw it out there and see if anybody was even interested in it before I went and really started another (hopefully not too long) story. So, yeah. Any and all comments on this would be most appreciated. Thanks. ~MJ

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**UNLIKELY ALLIES**

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**CHAPTER 1**

It was a series of bizarre, high-value robberies reported in the press that first attracted the Warehouse's attention to capital city of Ontario. Robberies in and of themselves were common, but in this case each of the victims reported that they had had a sword placed at their throat as the masked robber demanded the code for their safe. While this was an unusual approach to robbery, it wasn't particularly note-worthy in and of itself, but the fact that each of the victims felt compelled to answer the robber's question despite their desire to maintain silent, suggested that there was an artifact being used by their suspect.

Artie believed that it was the sword of Robin Hood that their suspect was wielding and, with Pete and Jinks off on another case, he had sent Myka, H.G., and Claudia up to Toronto to investigate. Though the famed outlaw was more widely known for his archery skills, he had also been quite an accomplished swordsman and, according to several texts that Claudia had accessed in the classified digital annals of the British Royal Archives, been known to use it as a means to extract information from captured royal guardsmen regarding the location and amounts of treasure passing through his region.

Because police reports had been filed after each of the robberies, the Warehouse Agents' first stop had been Toronto's 39th Police Precinct, where some smooth words and phone calls to arranged numbers established their jurisdictional reason for being in town, but there had been nothing in any of the reports that even hinted at who their suspect was. Each of the six victims lived in different areas of the city, some in the downtown area while others were in the suburbs, and they had different professions and different hobbies. They were so vastly different that there didn't exist a single commonality that linked them all, and the agents ended up starting from the beginning and visiting each of the places their victims had been before they had returned home and been robbed.

The first five locations had yielded exactly zero clues, with nobody having seen anything that had stood out as odd or suspicious; and Myka sighed as she, H.G., and Claudia made their way down an otherwise empty, yet surprisingly well-kept alley in downtown Toronto to a pub that their sixth victim had visited the night he had been liberated of his valuables.

"I know this is boring and all, but when we come back with a sword Pete is going to flip his shit," Claudia said, her spirits still high despite their lack of leads because she was out in the field instead of trapped in the Warehouse.

The redhead's assessment wasn't far off, and Myka couldn't help but smile as she nodded her agreement and looked up at the old-fashioned, hand-hewn sign that hung from a wrought iron bar above a large, solid-looking door. "The Dal Riata," she read with a shrug. "I guess this is it." She glanced around the alley with a small frown, curious as to why the entrance to the bar was tucked in the middle of an alley instead of out on the main boulevard that ran on the other side of the building and would have provided easier access to its patrons.

"Allow me," H.G. murmured as she leaned past the taller woman to knock on the door. But, before her knuckles could make contact with the wood, the door was pulled open by a stern-looking guy in a suit who bore a striking resemblance to the lead singer for Coldplay.

"Agents Bering, Wells, and Donovan, I presume?" he drawled, arching a brow questioningly as he scanned the group. He had been helping Trick with something earlier when the agents had visited the precinct, but Hale had called and told him all about them since the cases they were interested in were ones that he and Hale were now actively working. The sixth victim, the one who had been robbed the night before, was one of theirs.

"That would be us," Myka answered, obviously confused as to how, exactly, this man knew their names. "And you are?"

"The one sent to bring you to Trick," Dyson answered with an amused smirk as he noticed the way the curly-haired agent bristled at his refusal to give his name. He leaned out the door to scan the alleyway around the women and was pleased to see that it was empty. He stepped back inside the Dal and waved a hand toward the interior of the bar. "Are you guys coming?"

Myka caught Helena's eye and shrugged. The guy was definitely sketchy, but he didn't seem like he was a threat at the moment. Though there was a simmering predatory look in his eyes that told her he would be a more than capable adversary should they ever meet up on opposite sides of a battle. "Lead the way," she said.

He smiled and nodded, stepping away from the door and motioning the Warehouse agents inside. "Trick is at the bar," he informed them, and as the Warehouse agents funneled through the door and their eyes all widened in surprise when they walked into an immaculately kept pub that was reminiscent of those one would find anchoring the town squares around Britain. Although this one was quite a bit larger than one might normally find abroad. There were plenty of tables spread out across the giant room, as well as upholstered chairs situated in intimate conversation groupings, and even a few sofas spread about. The walls were covered in dark wood beams and tapestries, and the lights were wrought iron chandeliers and flickered with a warm golden glow of electric candles.

"I was _so_ not expecting this," Claudia murmured as he scanned the room.

A smiling man with a shaved head and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows greeted them from behind the bar as they crossed the room. "Welcome to the Dal Riata. How can we help you?" The question was, of course, not one that he needed an answer to. He knew very well why the human agents were in his city, both from his own intel and that which Hale had provided him with when the agents had stopped by the precinct earlier in the day. Though he appreciated their willingness to go after the Fae behind the string of robberies that had plagued Toronto for the last month, he doubted they would be able to handle him. They were, after all, operating on an entirely different playing field than they were used to.

Not knowing any of this, however, Myka smiled politely at the man and asked, "Are you Trick?"

Trick nodded and set his hands flat on the bar as he studied the agents. "I am. How might I be of service to you today?"

"My name is Myka Bering, and I'm with the U.S. Secret Service. We're looking into the recent robberies and were wondering if you remember anything about last night that might stand out as being particularly odd?"

"I certainly might," Trick said genially, "though I fail to see why the U.S. Secret Service is so concerned about a spate of robberies up here in Canada. Isn't this just a little outside of your jurisdiction?"

Amused by the bartender's witty reply – he was right, after all, the charter of the Secret Service gave the organization zero jurisdiction to just waltz into a foreign country and investigate a crime that bore no threat to the United States, her currency, or her president – H.G. grinned. Seeing that he had noticed her reaction, she toned down her smile and gave him an appraising look. There was something about him that was strangely… oddly… familiar. Though she couldn't quite put her finger on what, exactly, that was.

She cleared her throat and said, "You are quite right. However, we are…" Her voice trailed off as he cocked his head at her interestedly and she finally realized where she had seen this particular barkeep before. He had owned the Argyll and Bute Tavern, a pub near Warehouse 12 that she and Wolly used to frequently patronize, and she had engaged in hours upon hours of discussions with him on everything from ancient mythology, to literature, to modern (at the time) politics. "No bloody way," she muttered.

From the moment the Englishwoman had spoken, Trick had sensed that he _knew_ her, though he was positive that she wasn't Fae and he was therefore understandably confused about why he had this gut-tingling sense of familiarity toward her. And then she'd frowned, her forehead wrinkling in an adorable manner, and cursed under her breath, and he was able to place her. Though how she had survived so long with such limited physical changes was absolutely beyond his understanding. "Helena Wells?" he ventured, arching a brow questioningly.

"Trick Finarvin?" H.G. countered.

"Aye," Trick confirmed with a wary grin. "I must say, I am quite surprised to see you again."

"The same can be said for myself, as well," H.G. murmured. "It would appear that neither of us are quite as we seem; eh, old friend?"

Claudia leaned into Myka and whispered, "Old friend?"

Myka just shrugged and cast a questioning glance at her lover. "Helena?"

But before the Englishwoman could answer, the door to the Dal was thrown open and a new voice called out, "Sorry we're late."

Everybody except Trick, who was already facing the door, turned to look at the woman and her companion who had just entered the bar. The dark-haired woman in the lead was certainly the type to turn heads, what with her tight pants, the plunging neckline on her shirt, and her leather boots that ended at mid-thigh. She had curves that would drive a man (and woman) to absolute distraction, and she left them all on display as she strutted into the bar, her hips swaying seductively with each purposeful step. The blonde who was following behind her was equally beautiful, and her brown leather bomber jacket, plain white tee, and fitted jeans showed off her figure perfectly without being too in-your-face about it. She was a subtle beauty, with a strong jaw and warm, intelligent eyes, and both Myka and Helena felt drawn to the barely veiled sadness they could see lurking in their depths.

"We were just getting acquainted," Trick assured her. "Everybody, this is Bo-" he waved a hand at the brunette, "-and Lauren. Bo, Lauren, these are Agents Bering, Wells, and Donovan from the United States Secret Service."

"Secret Service, huh?" Bo murmured, smiling warmly at the agents. "What brings you up to our neck of the woods?"

Myka stiffened as the brunette's gaze lingered for just a moment too long on Helena and she took a rather obvious step closer to the Englishwoman so that she could place a protective, if not possessive, hand at the small of the shorter woman's back.

"They're here to investigate the robberies," Trick shared, shooting a pointed look at the two new arrivals.

Lauren frowned, confused as to why the Secret Service would care about a string of seemingly benign robberies. She knew their side was interested because of the Fae artifact being used during the robberies, but as far as she could tell the Secret Service had no jurisdictional grounds to investigate these cases. But, her years of service to the Ash had taught her how to politick with the best of them, and she simply sighed and said, "How interesting."

"More interesting is how H.G. knows the bartender," Claudia muttered.

Trick heard the redhead's muttered musings and glanced at the front door to the Dal. "Is the door locked?"

"Yeah," Bo answered. "Lauren locked it. Why?"

It didn't escape either Myka or H.G.'s attention that the brunette's posture had shifted ever so slightly in a way that suggested she was expecting an attack, and the two agents' hands automatically began reaching for their holstered weapons.

It didn't escape Trick's notice either, and he groaned. "Stand down, all of you," he ordered. He sighed as he ran a hand over his head and pursed his lips thoughtfully as he considered his options. Never before had he run into somebody from a past life, and he was desperately trying to come up with a story that would be convincing enough for why it had happened now. The problem was, there was no logical answer he could give that would explain why he was standing in front of Helena some 114 years since he'd last seen her looking exactly the same as he had then. "It would appear that we have found ourselves in a bit of a quandary at the moment, and only calm heads will help us work through it."

"What do you mean?" Bo asked.

"Like how your friend Trick and I used to spend quite a bit of time debating a wide range of topics with each other in a small pub called the Argyll and Bute Tavern in London over a century ago," Helena answered.


	2. Chapter 2

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**CHAPTER 2**

The Englishwoman's reply had been concise and to the point, and everybody gathered immediately saw the problem that, until that moment, had only been strikingly apparent to Trick and Helena. The Warehouse agents could only tell one person about the true nature of their work and the prime directive for the Fae was to keep their existence hidden from humans. Calling their current situation a 'quandary' was a colossal understatement. What they were faced with was the potential unmasking of each of their enigmatic worlds.

And yet…

Bo looked at Lauren and said, "You and Kenzi."

"Me and Kenzi, what?" Lauren replied, frowning.

"You guys aren't…" Bo let her voice trail off, wary of saying too much. But Lauren, Dyson, and Trick all understood immediately.

"True," Trick agreed, glancing quickly at Helena before turning his attention to Bo. "But they are-" he cleared his throat and cast an apologetic look at Lauren "-in positions where, should their loyalty falter, it wouldn't be difficult to take appropriate measures to remedy the situation."

"That doesn't sound good," Claudia murmured.

"It isn't," Lauren assured her. "What if we just called a Mnemonic to come and make them forget they were here?"

"We are standing right here, you know," Claudia spoke up.

While Dyson was still uncomfortable being in the same room as Bo and Lauren when they were together – it went against his nature to watch the woman he considered to be his mate be with another – he chuckled with amusement at the redhead's comment. "She reminds me of Kenzi. Speaking of…" His voice trailed off as he looked around the Dal. "Where is she, anyways?"

"Helping Hale with something that he needed her, and I quote, 'particular skill set' for," Bo answered, complete with little air finger quotes. "They're supposed to be coming by here when they're done."

"And we're not going to call a Mnemonic," Trick said.

Myka licked her lips and looked at Helena, who was staring at Trick with a look of rabid curiosity on her face. She cleared her throat and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "What are you thinking?"

"I want to know how he and I have ended up in this new century looking not a day older than we last saw each other when we were discussing the scientific merit behind Charles' novels over a pint of ale," Helena replied seriously.

"As I recall," Trick piped up, "you were quite adamant in your belief that a time machine could be built."

Myka bit her lip to stifle her grin as Helena rolled her eyes at the man's recollection. Though Helena had admitted to never expecting to ever come out of the bronze sector, when she awoke in this new century there had been so much that she had lost. Her sense of belonging. Understanding of how everything worked. Her old friends. For a while, her sanity. And yet, here stood a man that knew Helena back in the 19th century and Myka wanted the Englishwoman to have this. This moment to remember who she was and where she came from. A moment to reminisce about her past with somebody who could actually understand and empathize with her over her losses. A moment to reconnect with that sassy woman who strutted around London in the late 1800s wearing trousers and a waistcoat, looking and acting like there was nothing and nobody who could ever defeat her and her impressive intellect. And she knew that if Helena once considered Trick a friend, that he was truly a special soul indeed.

"It can be built," Helena said, rounding on him. "The science behind each of the novels was sound."

"And you know that," Trick said, a knowing smile tweaking his lips as he stared at the woman he had, at one time, been mildly infatuated with, "because you wrote them. Or, at the very least, provided Charles with the ideas and research that he needed to write them. Your brother wasn't clever enough to come up with half the things that were in those first novels. Don't think I didn't notice that the subject matter in H.G. Well's books changed quite dramatically once you disappeared in 1900."

Okay, for that observation alone, Trick now had Myka's full respect and she found herself regarding him in a whole new light. Ever since she learned who H.G. Wells really was, the demarcation between Wells' early science fiction pieces and "his" later works was easily recognizable and understandable. Charles could write well enough, but he wasn't smart enough or imaginative enough to have come up with the plots that Helena had.

"Of course, the genre of fiction wasn't the only thing that changed after you disappeared. Charles' attitude did as well. He was always an insufferable prick, but after _Love and Mr Lewisham _was published and received some halfway decent reviews, it was all but impossible to even tolerate the fellow," Trick added with a smirk.

Helena laughed and clapped her hands with amusement. "He was a prick, wasn't he? Smug bastard. God, he loved to take credit for my work. Even when we were children studying with tutors in our father's library, he would always copy from me and claim the work as his own."

Trick drew a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it go slowly. "How did you do it, Helena?" he asked, shaking his head slowly from side to side in bewildered awe.

The answer to that question was as simple as it was complicated, and the Englishwoman huffed a breath as she ran her hand through her hair. She cast an almost wistful look at Myka and said, "Darling, would you be terribly upset if I made Trick my One?"

"But, why would you do that?!" Claudia spoke up, sounding almost panicked.

"Because, Claudia," Helena said, turning to smile at the young woman, "the only person I wish to spend the rest of my life with is Myka, and she already knows everything. I have no reason to hold onto this part of myself to someday share with my soulmate. Despite the bounds of time and humanity, I've already managed to find her," she murmured, focusing her attention back onto Myka, her rich mahogany eyes smoldering with love and desire.

The attraction between the two agents was obvious, and Bo smiled as she watched their sexual auras flare with desire. On a scale of one to ten, they were firing at about an eighteen. "They are absolutely perfect together," she whispered in Lauren's ear.

Lauren didn't have to possess the succubus' power to read sexual energy to know that. It was evident in every aspect of their behavior toward each other; from the way they stared just a little too long, getting lost in the depths of the other's gaze, to the soft touches and even softer smiles they shared when they thought nobody was looking. "Very much so," she agreed quietly.

Myka smiled a small, smitten smile as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Helena's lips. "If you're sure this is what you want to do, it's okay with me, love," she whispered.

Dark eyes flashed over to find her old friend and Helena nodded. "I do." She turned back toward Myka and lowered her voice until it was barely louder than a breath. "The question now, however, is what do we do about the rest of them. You know the manual better than anyone except the Regents, would they all fit under my One? Because, if Trick trusts them, which he obviously does, I do believe that they would be able to keep our secret as well."

"If I may," Trick spoke up, offering the women an apologetic smile as they turned to him wearing identical looks of affronted confusion. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying. Would I be correct in assuming that whomever it is you work for monitors your progress from a distance?"

"Yes," Myka, Helena, and Claudia answered.

Trick nodded. "I have something that could help with that down in my residence, if you would perhaps like to take this discussion there?"

"That sounds wonderful," Helena answered for the Agents.

They had taken not even three steps when Dyson's phone rang, and he murmured an apology as he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. "Dyson. … Hey, where are you guys? … Yeah-" he glanced at Bo and Lauren, who were standing practically on top of each other, their hands playing lightly together as they whispered back and forth about god only knew what, and gritted his teeth, "-they're still here. … You two are on your way? … Good. I'll see you soon." He hung up without further conversation and caught Trick's eye. "They're on their way over here now," he said. "I'll hang out up here and let them in, if you all want to go downstairs."

Trick knew how badly it hurt Dyson to watch Bo with Lauren and while he appreciated the fact that Dyson was better suited to physically protect his granddaughter than the blonde, he couldn't deny that she and Lauren were equally well matched. The doctor wasn't strong, but she was smart and cunning when she needed to be, she loved Bo with every fiber of her fragile Human being, and he knew that, if it came down to it, she would do everything in her power to protect Bo. He also knew that Dyson could only handle seeing the two women together for so long before the angry, territorial pacing of his inner wolf became too much, and he nodded at him in understanding. "That would be excellent. Thank you, Dyson."

The Coldplay doppelganger tipped his head in a small bow and walked over toward the front door of the tavern, the tense set of his shoulders easing the further he got from the group.

Trick sighed as he watched him go, but when he turned back toward Bo, Lauren, and the Warehouse agents, his genial smile was firmly in place. "If you ladies would kindly follow me," he said, waving a hand toward a door that was tucked into the wall on the far side of the bar.

There was a silent jostling for position as Trick once again turned and headed for his private quarters, with neither Bo nor Myka wanting to be the first to follow Trick downstairs. It was a matter of basic strategy – neither trusted the other, which meant that neither was willing to show her back to a potential enemy. It was a tense few moments of silent staring and posturing, and in the end it was Helena who made the first move, letting out an amused chuckle as she dropped a quick kiss to Myka's cheek before she stared down the stairs after her old friend. A pointed look from Myka sent Claudia scurrying after H.G., and Lauren rolled her eyes as she looped a hand through the crook of Bo's arm and pulled the succubus forward, giving Myka the rear position in their group.

The stone staircase wound deep underground where it deposited them in a large, circular room that was lit by electric candles in wrought iron sconces that were an identical match to the ones upstairs as well as small table lamps that were scattered around the room. It was warm, comfortable, and homey, and while Claudia, Helena, and Myka lingered near the foot of the stairs taking in their new surroundings, Bo and Lauren made their way over to the sofa and made themselves comfortable.

It didn't escape any of the Warehouse agents' notice that Bo and Lauren sat much closer together on the couch than mere friends might, and Helena smiled knowingly as she watched the way the women's hands played lightly together between them, fingers slipping together as they drew comfort from the proximity of the other. She had suspected the two were involved romantically from the moment they met. She had instantly recognized the women as being open to the female persuasion, and the way they comfortably invaded each other's personal space told her that they were most likely more than just platonic friends.

While the Warehouse agents busied themselves with taking in the most minute details of their surroundings, Trick turned away from the women and opened a small cabinet that was tucked beside his desk. He had told Helena that he had something that would protect her and the other agents from the oversight of their handlers, but it would also keep the women away from the attention of the new Ash, the Morrigan, and the rest of the Fae elders who might not take kindly to having more humans know of their existence.

"Here we go," he announced as he pulled a small, unassuming wooden box from the lowest shelf.

"Ah," Lauren hummed, nodding as she leaned forward to look at the relic. She had only seen pictures of it in some books the Ash kept at his compound before, and she wasn't at all surprised to find that it was even more beautiful in person than it was in photographs. "I was wondering what you were alluding to before. That just might work."

"What is it?" Bo asked, looking just as confused as the three Warehouse agents.

Sensing no danger, Myka, Helena, and Claudia walked further into the room, all three of them focused on the small box Trick set almost lovingly down onto the coffee table in front of the couch where Bo and Lauren sat.

Lauren smiled and leaned her head on Bo's shoulder as she twined their fingers together. "It's the…"

Before Lauren could finish her sentence, though, Helena let out a soft gasp of recognition. "You have the Chest of Harpocrates?" she asked, looking entirely annoyed. "I traipsed all over the bloody Continent looking for that blasted thing! Where did you find it?"

Trick grinned. "I found it in the abandoned ruins of an estate on Mikonos ages before you ever even started looking for it."

The Englishwoman let out a loud huff of annoyance as she rounded on him. "Oh, bollocks! You mean, you let me sit and prattle on about my _idiotic_ theories regarding its location for years on end and you had it all along?!"

"Um, what's the Chest of Harpocrates?" Claudia asked, raising her hand.

"Yeah," Bo added, looking equally confused.

"Harpocrates was the Greek god of Silence," Lauren explained.

Myka nodded and added, "When the Greeks invaded Egypt they were confronted with a wide variety of statues relating to the Egyptian gods. There were hundreds of statues that depicted this same image-" she pointed at the picture of a naked male child with a finger held to his lips. "It is, of course, an image of the child Horus, the Egyptian Sun God – the finger held to his lips was a representation of the hieroglyph for child – but the Greeks interpreted the image to mean silence."

"Very good," Trick said, smiling. "I can see why you like this one," he told Helena in a none-too-quiet aside.

"Mmm," Helena murmured, grinning at her old friend as she looped an arm around Myka's waist. "Her intelligence is just one of the things I find incredibly sexy about her."

"Oh my god. Get a room," Claudia muttered under her breath.

Bo laughed. "You are going to get along famously with Kenzi," she told the redhead.

"Who is this Kenzi-person you all keep mentioning?" Claudia asked.

"My roommate," Bo answered.

"I know I'm all kinds of awesome and everything, but why are you guys talking about me?" a new voice asked from the stairs. They all turned to find a petite raven-haired woman in knee-high lace-up platform boots, black leggings, and a white tee covered by a black waistcoat staring at them with an amused grin. "'Sup Trickster?"

"Kenzi," Trick replied, smiling. "How lovely to see you again."

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Kenzi drawled, smirking at the barkeep as she sauntered across the room and threw herself down onto the couch beside Bo. "What's up?" She regarded the three newcomers with a wary eye. "They're not trippin' my 'dar," she murmured in her roommate's ear.

Bo laughed and arched a brow suggestively. "Because they shouldn't."

"Ah," Kenzi murmured, nodding. "That would explain it then. My Fae-dar has gotten scarily accurate lately."

Not understanding a word Kenzi said, Claudia frowned and turned her attention back to the small box that was on the table in front of them. "Still kind of waiting to hear about this Chest of Harpocrates."

"Sorry," Trick apologized, smiling at the young woman. "The Chest of Harpocrates, when opened, creates a sort of… dome of silence around a group of people so that their conversations cannot be overheard by anyone on the outside of the field."

"It was, as I'm sure you can imagine," Helena added, "quite a treasure to be had amongst the more rebellious factions of society. We believed that it played a major role in Mehmed II's capture of Constantinople in 1453. However, it disappeared from view not long after that and we've been looking for it ever since."

"It was a key component in Mehmed II's strategy," Trick confirmed with an authoritative nod. "Constantinople was the final city he needed to capture to create the Ottoman Empire. He and his followers used it in all of their planning sessions so that word of what they were attempting to organize wouldn't get out."

"And how do you know that?" Claudia asked, frowning.

"Hey all," Hale called out merrily, interrupting whatever it was Trick was about to say as he entered the barkeep's home. "Long time no see, ladies," he said to the Warehouse agents, giving them a roguish smile and a wink as he sidled up to the group.

"Detective Hale," Myka greeted the fedora-wearing detective.

Trick regarded Dyson with a questioning look, asking without words if everything was okay, and he was answered with a slight nod of Dyson's head. Relieved, he turned his attention back to the box in question, the intricate engraving on the lid glowing in the light from the chandelier that hung over the coffee table. "I know that it was a key component to his victory," he said, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand, "because I was there."

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	3. Chapter 3

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**NOTE 1:** Thanks again for your continued interest in this story, I'm pretty sure I responded to everybody who commented after the last chapter but in case you were on anon or I missed you – THANK YOU for taking the time to leave me a review. I really do appreciate it.

**NOTE 2: **Muse throws a great big thank you kiss across the internet superhighway to Jade for her exemplary work flogging our asses through this chapter to get it where she wanted to see it. ;P

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**CHAPTER 3**

If the Warehouse Agents had thought that Trick being a friend of Helena's in the nineteenth century was a shock, the idea of him having been around over five hundred and fifty nine years prior left them all gobsmacked and at a complete loss of words.

"No way," Claudia murmured.

"Way," Trick replied, smiling as he arched a brow at the redhead.

"How old are you?" Kenzi asked, intrigued. She knew that Trick had been around forever, but she had never asked him exactly how many birthdays he had celebrated in his lifetime.

Trick sighed and leveled a serious look at Helena, Myka, and Claudia as he sat down in his favorite chair that was set a few feet to the right of the one Helena was standing beside and on the opposite side of the rectangular coffee table from the sofa where Bo, Lauren, and Kenzi sat. "I have your word that what we discuss here today will not be shared?" he asked as he heard Dyson and Hale move to stand behind him so the men could see the Warehouse agents better.

"Of course," Helena murmured, smiling reassuringly at her old friend as Myka and Claudia nodded their agreement.

"And we are safe to assume the same of you all, correct?" Myka asked.

"You have my word," Trick assured her. "And I can vouch for everyone else."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Kenzi drawled, rolling her eyes. "We're all kick-ass at keeping things on the down low. So, come on! I wanna know how it is that Posh Spice here knew Trickster back in the day?"

Helena chuckled at the way Myka stiffened ever so slightly as she sat down in the chair beside Trick's. She could tell that the curly-haired agent was still on high alert, wary of a possible attack, and she sighed as she reached out to grab hold of her wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Myka looked down at the delicate hand wrapped around her wrist and then up into warm chocolate-colored eyes. Her lips quirked up into a small, embarrassed smile as she obliged the silent request in her lover's gaze and relaxed. If Helena believed they were amongst friends, she would at least give them the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.

A soft smile tweaked Helena's lips as Myka sat down on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, and though she knew Myka hated being coddled or being seen as weak, she couldn't resist placing her hand on the small of the younger woman's back and rubbing it gently. The touch was more to soothe herself than Myka, and she was infinitely glad that Myka didn't reach back and quiet her hand.

She looked up to see that she and Myka were the focus of everyone's attention and she rolled her eyes as she turned to Trick and said, "Would you like to share first, or shall I?"

"Ladies first, by all means," Trick said amiably as he leaned forward to unclasp the lid of the chest. "Allow me to just-" he flipped it open and they all watched as a shimmering white-blue light shot up from the chest and spilled over the top of them like a parachute, "-do that."

Helena tipped her head in thanks and took a deep breath, her arms tightening around Myka's waist for strength and comfort. "In 1899 my daughter Christina was murdered, as I'm sure you remember, and I became utterly obsessed with the idea of time travel."

"Hence _The Time Machine_," Trick offered.

"Indeed," Helena confirmed with a small nod. "And the science in there is entirely valid, I'm sure. However, the most I was able to manage with the time machine I built was a temporal journey – I could transport my consciousness back in time, but not my corporeal body."

Lauren arched a brow and leaned forward in her seat, her inner geek absolutely enthralled by the idea being presented. "How did you…? I mean…"

Helena smiled and shrugged. "It took a lot of trial and error, to be honest, but I eventually happened upon an algorithm that utilized the concepts of what you now call quantum mechanics that allowed me to precisely calibrate the electromagnetic sensors that I designed that let me send my consciousness back in time via a… what did you call it, Claudia?"

"A wormhole," Claudia supplied.

"Yes, thank you," Helena said, giving the redhead a grateful smile. "Through a wormhole."

"That's… amazing," Lauren murmured.

Bo chuckled and pulled the blonde back into her side. "God, you are so adorable when you geek out," she whispered.

"Gag me," Kenzi muttered.

Claudia chuckled and shot Kenzi a knowing smirk. "Them too, huh?"

"Like bunnies!" Kenzi exclaimed, nodding. "All the time. Especially when Hotpants starts talking science. She flexes her sexy brain and Bo goes all weak-in-the-knees and just spreads 'em. It's embarrassing, actually."

Claudia looked at Myka, who was glaring at her, and grinned as she mouthed 'Hotpants?'

Bo rolled her eyes at Kenzi's statement and reached out to playfully punch her in the shoulder. "Shut up."

"These two are the same," Claudia shared, hooking a thumb toward Helena and Myka. "H.G. just has to look at her and Mykes is practically moaning. And then there's the eyesex!"

"Oh my god, I know!" Kenzi threw her hands up in the air and grinned at Claudia. "All the time!"

Dyson and Hale started coughing to try and cover the sound of their laughter, but they weren't fooling anyone and Bo picked up a book off of Trick's coffee table and threw it in their direction, not necessarily aiming for one of them in particular, but just wanting to make sure they knew exactly how annoyed she was. "Can we get back to the story please?"

"Sorry," Kenzi murmured. She smiled slyly as she caught Claudia's eye and added, "We'll talk more later."

"Oh my god," Myka muttered, shaking her head.

Helena licked her lips and sighed. "Right. Well, I was able to travel back in time to try and stop the men who murdered Christina, but I wasn't able to. Even my knowledge of Kenpo – a particularly effective Japanese martial art – wasn't enough to dissuade them and it was after that failed attempt to save my daughter that I'm afraid I truly went mad. After I made sure each of the men responsible for her death suffered – not nearly as much as she did, but as much as I could make them – I decided I just couldn't handle living with that level of pain any longer.

"You knew me as an archaeologist," Helena said, looking pointedly at Trick, who nodded. "I was, in a sense, because I was constantly searching for items that were from the past, but that wasn't my true profession. I was, and am once again, an agent of the Warehouse – an organization dedicated to collecting dangerous artifacts that possess preternatural powers. And, as an agent, it was and is our job to go out into the world to recover those artifacts."

"Artifacts like, what, exactly?" Hale asked, intrigued.

"Oh, what would be a good one?" Helena murmured under her breath. "Oh, yes, an excellent example of the types of artifacts we recover would be Lewis Carroll's looking glass. By all outward appearances it was an otherwise unremarkable mirror, but inside it lived Alice, a particularly nasty spirit who could take over a person's body and leave that person's consciousness trapped within the mirror."

"Wicked," Kenzi breathed.

Claudia nodded. "I am so glad that thing is gone-zo, by the way."

"Me too," Myka murmured, shuddering as she remembered her own time trapped in the glass.

"So there are more of these artifacts?" Lauren asked, naturally intrigued.

"Many, many more," Helena answered, smiling at the blonde's eagerness. "Once a suspected artifact is located, we are sent to the locale to try and recover it."

"And you believe that one such artifact is being used in the robberies here," Trick surmised.

"Exactly," Helena said.

"But how does all this Indiana Jones-ing make you live so long?" Kenzi asked.

"Indiana Jones-ing?" Helena repeated, leaning forward to catch Myka's eye. "What is that?"

"He's a fictional archaeologist similar to Lara Croft," Myka said, smiling as she remembered the artificer's outfit in Egypt.

"Ah, I see," Helena murmured, nodding. "To answer your question-" she looked at Kenzi, "-my Indiana Jones-ing, as you called it, didn't necessarily contribute to my extended lifespan, however my employer did. I told you we collect dangerous artifacts, but we have also, from time to time, captured certain individuals who were simply too dangerous to be allowed to live."

"You're assassins?!" Kenzi yelped.

"No!" Myka said, rolling her eyes.

"No, we're not," Helena assured her. "The Warehouse has a sort of prison ward called the Bronze Sector. Agents have been, from time to time, sent to capture individuals who were particularly evil and they would be placed in the bronzer – a machine that transforms humans into bronze statues so they are effectively removed from humanity."

"That's… mega creepy," Kenzi murmured, and Bo nodded her agreement. "And kinda like that scene in Star Wars. You know, when Han Solo is all like-" she pulled a fairly accurate impression of Han Solo when he was frozen in carbonite.

"Princess Leia was pretty hot in that slave costume when she busted into Jabba's palace to rescue him, though," Lauren added softly, almost as an afterthought. She blushed at the amused Bo shot her and cleared her throat as she leaned forward to capture Helena's attention. "How, exactly, does this bronzer work?"

Helena smiled at the blonde's curiosity. "An electric pulse transforms the base chemical structure of the human's DNA so that they are changed to bronze. Though, somehow during the transformation, the mind remains unaffected and fully functional. I have yet to be allowed to dismantle the machine to see why, exactly, that is."

"Oh, snap! That would be an awesome project!" Claudia interjected eagerly. "Can I help?!" When Helena nodded, she grinned and clapped her hands excitedly. "Sweet!"

"So you're frozen, but still able to think?" Lauren asked for clarification.

The Englishwoman nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And can this process also be reversed?" Lauren pressed.

"I am sitting here today, am I not?" Helena answered cheekily, though her smile faded after only a moment. "After I had dispatched with the men responsible for my daughter's murder, I returned to the Warehouse and asked to be bronzed."

"So that's how you did it," Trick murmured, nodding.

"It is. My hope had been that when I was de-bronzed that I would find myself in a world free of violence and hate, and though that isn't the case, I have still managed to find some truly spectacular things in this new world," she said, squeezing Myka's hip for emphasis. All of her suffering was more than worth it for the happiness she had found with Myka. "And that, such as it is, is my story."

"I must say, even though I didn't know what to expect – it certainly wasn't anything like that," Trick murmured. He looked up at Helena and, sensing the melancholy that had befallen the dark-haired beauty, smiled and added, "It wasn't even your own bloody invention that did it!"

Helena laughed and nodded. "Touché, old friend. However, I take great solace in the knowledge that even after over a hundred years of scientific advancement that I am the only one who has built any kind of working time machine."

Trick grinned and tipped his head in recognition of her accomplishment. "So, my turn now, eh?"

"Please," Helena murmured.

"Kenzi asked earlier how old I was," Trick started, giving her a smile. "That, unfortunately, isn't something I share, as my true age is something of a barometer for my power – and I prefer to keep my enemies guessing."

Claudia arched a brow and leaned against the back of Helena and Myka's chair, making herself more comfortable as she waited for him to tell his story.

"Much like you ladies are part of a secret organization; the same – in a manner of speaking - could be said for myself. Helena, what do you remember of our discussions regarding Celtic Mythology?"

"That you were bloody well convinced that the Tuatha Dé Danann existed," Helena shared with a chuckle. Her amusement faded, however, as she noticed the pointed look Trick was giving her. "You weren't pulling my leg with all that Fae nonsense?"

"You told her about us?" Dyson muttered disbelievingly.

"She didn't believe a word of it," Trick said, rolling his eyes. "It was all just a good laugh between friends with overactive imaginations."

"Except it apparently wasn't just a good laugh," Helena murmured accusingly.

"Not entirely," Trick admitted. "I did, however, quite enjoy our discussions and saw no reason not to continue them after you brought up the Armor of Brighid."

"The huh of who?" Kenzi muttered.

"Brighid was the wife of Bres, a Celtic God," Trick explained. "She was unusually talented at forging metals and smithing armor, and her work was said to be able to stand up to any sword short of the Fragarach. I never did understand why you were so interested in it, though," he added, looking at Helena.

Helena chuckled. "I was looking for the Corsican Vest and was curious if there was a way to replicate it."

"What's the Corsican Vest?" Bo asked.

"Does it have anything to do with Dumas' novella?" Lauren asked.

"Exactly," Myka said, nodding. "Similar to how one twin feels the pain of the other in the story, the vest redirects any harm against the wearer to the individual from which it originated. So, for example…"

"If H.G.'s wearing the vest and Artie shoots her, he gets shot instead and she's fine," Claudia said. She winced as Myka turned to glare at her and added, "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

Though the non-Warehouse personnel were confused as to who 'Artie' was, it was obvious from the way Claudia had apologized that he was something of a sore subject and none of them spoke up and asked about him.

Hale, however, couldn't resist adding a hushed, "That's so awesome," as a sidebar, and both Kenzi and Dyson nodded their agreement.

Helena wisely remained silent on the matter.

"Anyways," Trick said loudly, trying to bring the discussion back to the subject at hand, "yes, Helena – I was telling you the truth. To a degree, anyway. The Old Gods did exist – some still do – but I'm not a God. I am, however, Fae."

"Meaning pixies and sprites and other mythological creatures?" Myka asked, frowning.

Trick chuckled and nodded. "In a sense, yes. Though mythological would be an incorrect classification as we exist, supernatural would be a more correct term, and I am neither a pixy nor a sprite. You humans share your world with those of our kind. If there has been a myth written about a creature, or a story told – odds are very good that the creature is very, very real."

"Creatures like what, exactly?" Myka asked, already running through her mental catalogue of supposedly mythological creatures.

"Kappas, Furies, Bacchants, Geminis, Goblins, Sirens, Ogres, Wolf-shifters, Succubi, Incubi, Elves, Harpies, Banshees, the list goes on and on and they are all as real as you and I," Trick said seriously.

"Oh wow," Claudia murmured.

"Tell me about it," Kenzi piped up, nodding. "It was a wicked kick to the metaphorical balls when I found all this shit out."

"So you're not...?" Myka asked Kenzi.

"Nope. I'm just as human as you all and Hotpants here," Kenzi answered. And then her eyes widened as she shot Trick an apologetic look. "Were we not telling them that?"

"It's fine, Kenzi," Lauren assured her. She looked at the Warehouse agents and offered them a wry smile. "I'm a doctor for the Fae," she explained.

"I'm Bo's sidekick," Kenzi announced proudly, nodding.

Helena, who had been silently watching Trick throughout the girls' conversation, cleared her throat softly. "I do believe you'll be able to keep our secret just fine then, won't you?" she murmured. Because, really, if they all had managed to keep secret the fact that they were an entirely different race than the humans they lived amongst, the idea of them not being able to keep quiet about a few artifacts was just ludicrous.

"Aye," Trick replied softly. "Truthfully, you are at greater risk for knowing our secret, though I also believe that you will be able to more than honor your word about keeping our existence secret."

Helena licked her lips and nodded slowly. "So… I mean to say… oh, bollocks. Would it be terribly rude of me to ask what type of Fae you are? I'm sorry, but I am completely bewildered as to the proper etiquette in this situation. However, I'm sure you have some idea of exactly how curious you have now made me."

Trick grinned. "I have a niggling suspicion, yes." He looked around at those he considered his closest friends and allies and arched a brow questioningly. "But it is up to each individual if they wish to share the true nature of their powers with you. I, however, am a Blood Sage. Whatever I write in my own blood becomes reality."

"That's freakin' awesome," Claudia murmured, her voice a curious mix of a whisper and a squeal.

Bo shrugged. If Trick saw fit to tell these strangers about his power, then she could certainly share as well. "I'm a succubus."

"Siren," Hale spoke up, waving. "Want me to sing for you ladies?" he asked with a roguish grin.

"Keep it in your pants, buddy," Kenzi drawled, rolling her eyes. "The only thing you'll be singing is that hangover cure of yours when we all go drinking later."

"He can do that?" Claudia asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Best. Power. Ever," Kenzi said, nodding for emphasis after each word.

Dyson rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I'm a wolf-shifter like Trick mentioned earlier."

"So is that a full-moon thing, or…" Myka's voice trailed off as she stared expectantly at Dyson.

"No," Dyson said, smiling at the woman's obvious curiosity. "Though the pull is stronger during the full moon, I am in full control of when I shift."

"And the man you are searching for is a Spriggan," Trick offered. "Spriggans are an infamous band of highly skilled thieves who prove their worth to the clan by stealing something bigger and more valuable than anyone else."

"Fun," Claudia murmured.

"So if you know this, why haven't you caught him yourselves?" Myka asked.

"Because they are also amongst the most elusive of our kind as well. There's a reason they're considered highly skilled thieves," Trick answered. "And, to make him even more dangerous, he's wielding the Fragarach."

"What is the Fragarach?" Claudia asked.

"It's a sword that was created by the Tuatha Dé Danann. It is also called 'the Answerer' because when it is pointed at your throat you have to answer any question asked of you. You don't have a choice," Lauren answered.

"Like our victims here," Myka murmured.

Lauren nodded. "Exactly."

"But the most notable power of the sword isn't even its ability to make you answer questions; it's that it can cut through anything. Any armor. Any man. Any beast. Anything. It is the single deadliest sword ever forged."

"I thought we were chasing Robin Hood's sword?" Claudia asked Myka in a hushed whisper.

"The artifact you're hunting is the Fragarach," Trick assured her, his eyes flicking over to his desk for the briefest of moments. "And the man wielding it is more cunning than anyone you've yet come up against. It would honestly be in your best interest to call this entire operation a loss and return home. The man you're looking for is Fae and the weapon he is using was crafted by Fae Gods. You are entirely out of your league here. We are handling this."

Helena cleared her throat softly and shook her head. "I'm afraid we can't do that, Trick. Our overseers would be most displeased with our failure and they would just send us – or other members of our team – back up here to clear up the mess. Undoubtedly with closer scrutiny than we are currently under. You don't want us to go."

"Why? We can handle some humans interfering in our business," Dyson murmured.

Myka smiled. "I'm sure you can," she said. "But why not work with us instead of against another team? We may not have superpowers like you guys, but we know what we're doing."

The earnestness on Myka's face gave Trick pause and he sighed as he looked to Helena, who was staring at him with a steely resolve he knew all too well. "I cannot guarantee your safety," he warned.

"Please. Working for the Warehouse basically guarantees you'll either die an early death or go batshit insane," Claudia said, rolling her eyes. "This is just a regular walk in the park for us. Let us help."

Trick pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was obvious that Helena and her friends were genuinely set on trying to stop the Fae responsible for the robberies and as they hadn't had any luck finding him yet, so long as the Warehouse agents knew the risks, he didn't see a reason to bar them from the investigation. "Very well," he said, nodding. "But when the Fragarach is recovered, I'm afraid I cannot let you have it. It needs to stay with us."

Myka shook her head. "We have to bring it back."

"I'm afraid this is nonnegotiable," Trick said seriously. "The Fragarach needs to stay with us. It is a priceless Fae artifact and I cannot let you take it. I can however, provide a replacement for you to take back."

"They'll know the difference," Myka said. "It won't work."

Trick grinned. "Not if it's Robin Hood's sword."

"You have it?" Claudia asked.

Trick nodded and waved a hand at a sword that was hanging on the wall over his desk. "It's right there."

The sword didn't have any powers, but it was one of his more treasured possessions simply because of the story behind it. He hated to part with it, but if the agents were determined to help, possessing the Fragarach would more than compensate for the loss of what amounted to a trinket. It never hurt to have capable allies on one's side; and if there was one thing that could be said for Helena G. Wells, it was that she was frighteningly capable at anything she did.

"How did you get it?" Helena asked as Myka climbed off her lap to study the weapon.

"Would you believe I won it off of him in a game of cards?" Trick chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"This could work," Myka said.

"Or you could just take the sword and leave this guy to us," Dyson said, glaring at Trick as if to say 'Why the hell didn't you just offer them the damn sword to begin with?!'.

Ignoring Dyson's glare, Trick smiled at the Warehouse agents. "So we're agreed?"

Helena glanced to Myka and Claudia, who were both wearing identical determined looks, and nodded. "We are," she said, extending a hand to her old friend.

...


End file.
